Dinner was a quiet affair that evening. The seat across from her was empty, the void spanning to encompass the whole room.
There were no grumpy looks or snide remarks made tonight.
The absence of tension at the table felt strange. Nice, but strange. She had almost grown accustom to his cantankerous presence.
Maka ate more than she'd ever dared before, there was no sense in letting the man ruin the beautiful dinner Tsubaki had cooked.
"Hun, you're eating like a field hand." Tsubaki laughed lightly as she ladled more stew into her bowl. "Then again, Soul's making you into one, ain't he?"
"It certainly appears so." Maka set her spoon down, her appetite lurching at the sound of his name said aloud.
Why did the man have to be so obstinate?!
He had stormed off, without a word of explanation, like she had done something unspeakable to him.
Other than surprise, she hadn't asked him a single thing about those scars. Admittedly, she was dying to ask, but she hadn't, and he was still angry.
Men were odd creatures indeed!
"What's eatin' at you?" Tsubaki asked gingerly, her eyes knowing. "Last I saw, you two were happier than to pigs in slop, laughing and joking. Now you're too quiet, and he's nowhere to be seen. Soul never misses a meal either. So what happened?"
Maka hung her head into her hands, suddenly feeling too tired to hold it high.
"I'm not sure... but I think I might have made a huge mistake. I think he hates me again."
Tsubaki patted her kindly on the back, encouraging her to continue.
"When we were washing, I happened to see his back, and all of the scars there. I didn't question him about them though."
"Oh, I see." Tsubaki hummed in understanding. "You didn't do anything wrong hun."
"Then why do I feel so bad? Why is he so angry with me?"
Tsubaki sighed heavily, as if what she was about to say hurt her as well.
"He's been through a lot in his young life and those scars are just a reminder of everything he's trying to forget. He's not angry at you hun, he's angry at himself. That boy, he hates himself more often than not."
Maka hesitates, her breath hitching before she speaks.
She shouldn't ask, its improper to pry into someone's private life, but she needs to know.
"What happened to him? To make him hate himself so much? It must have been horrible."
Tsubaki looks around the dining room before her voice drops to a hushed tone. "I shouldn't be telling you this, it's not my place, but I want you to know. I want you to understand him a little better."
Maka sighs heavily, but agrees.
Soon she would learn Soul's past, and although she was curious, somehow it felt wrong. It felt too intimate, to be sitting here, whispering about the man.
"I promise I won't breathe a word of it to anyone."
"Most everyone here already knows about his past, or at least what little Stein has told us. Soul refuses to talk about it. I know Black Star has tried to bring it up before, but Soul only becomes withdrawn or angry when pressed."
"So you don't know all of the details?"
"No, only Soul knows the whole story, and you can't get it out of him, but l will share what little I do know."
Maka leaned forward a little too eagerly, her chair making a horrible scraping sound on the wood floors.
Judging by Tsubaki's grim face, whatever story she was about to tell was not a pleasant one. Nonetheless Maka was ready to hear it. Maybe it would help her make peace with Soul and his ever changing moods.
Maka tried not to fidget as she waited, she could tell that Tsubaki was having trouble collecting her thoughts.
"First of all, you need to understand that this ranch is somewhat of a haven for downtrodden people. Stein is a little rough around the edges, but he has always opened up his home to the people who need it the most, the name Forsaken is more than just this ranch's name. Everyone here has a past that they would rather forget."
"Everyone?" Maka asked curiously, the faces of all the cow hands she had been slowly getting to know popping in her mind.
"Me, Soul, and Balck Star have been here the longest, but the others have slowly drifted in throught the years, each one seeking an escape. Heartache of any kind isn't easy to run from, but living here we all get a second chance. We're like a big family here, made up of misfits, orphans, and black sheep. We might have come from a troubled past, but together, we are working towards something better. We are finding our peace here." Tsubaki sighed and smiled softly, her eyes turning misty.
Maka return her smile, her heart feeling oddly lighter.
If the people here could overcome great odds and find happiness, then maybe she could too. This little family of cow hands was becoming more and more dear to her by the day.
"Out of all of us, I think this place has done the most good for Soul. He came to us more animal than child though." Tsubaki's voice wavered at the memory, and outside a gust if wind rattled the eaves.
Maka took her hand and squeezed it encouragingly.
"Stein travels a lot for business, and one day while riding up in the panhandle he came across a sleeping child, all alone, and lost in a sea of grass. There was no settlements or towns for hundreds of miles, so Stien stopped his horse out of curiosity. There was no reason for a child to be alone in the middle of nowhere."
"Maka gasped, horror and comprehension choking her.
"Soul."
It wasn't a question, but Tsubaki nodded.
"Before Stein could get a good look, the child woke up and lunged at him. He was covered from head to toe in blood and had a knife clutched in his little hand. Before Stein could blink or even defend himself Soul had stabbed him, right in the gut."
"Bloody hell." Maka breathed, her heart in her throat.
"Bloody and hell are the perfect words to describe the situation. Stein says Soul looked like a demon, white hair stained red, baring his fangs, and eyes the color of blood."
Maka held her breath, the image of a frighten child painted in blood flickering across her vision.
"Stein wrestled the thrashing child to the ground and unarmed him before he could escape. Without even thinking twice he tied up Soul's hands and tossed him onto his horse, not the least bit concerned about being stabbed. The fool. Only Stein would try to save someone who had tried to kill him."
Tsubaki chuckled at the memory.
"A few days later he came walking into the yard, holding his bloody stomach and grinning like a mad man and Soul hog tied and furious. You should have seen the two of them, they were a real mess. Soul had fought him every step of the way and Stein had sewed himself up with his boot laces. Soul was the most savage creature I had ever seen. He howled and growled like a wounded animal. I was young, only eight at the time, but I'll never forget the sight of him for as long as I live. He was naked from the waist up, his feet were bare, and he had black crow feathers tucked into his hair."
"Did he tell you what had happened to him?" Maka asked in awe, trying to picture the stern cowboy she knew today as a wild little boy.
"No, between the growls, teeth nashing, and gibberish he only spoke broken bits of english, and most of it was profanity. Other than that he spoke nothing but a language I didn't understand. He had actually bit Stein a few times on their journey back."
"Oh my, what in the world caused him to be so wild? How did he end up out in the middle of nowhere? Where did the blood come from?" Maka asked, trying to put the peices together.
Tsubaki shook her head sadly. "We may never know the whole story. What we do know is that he had been kidnapped and tortured."
"Tortured?" Maka whispered.
Her body began to tremble from deep within as she remembered the deep scars on Soul's back and the anger flashing behind his eyes.
"Who would do something so cruel to a small and defenseless child?"
"Comanche." Tsubaki breathed.
"What's Comanche?" Maka asked.
She had never heard that word before.
"Comanche is a particular tribe of Indians."
"Indians!?" Maka whisper yelled, her brain trying to grasp the ramifications.
"Yes, and they are one of the most dangerous and notorious tribes of them all. Their braves and dog warriors are even feared by other indian tribes. No one messes with the Comanche."
Thought after thought, each one more terrifying than the last, clamored inside Maka's head, beating behind her eyes, making her heart race and her hands suddenly go slick.
Its, true she had been sheltered most of her life by her overbearing Papa, and she knew that the world was sometimes a dangerous place full of injustices, but she never imagined that something like this could be possible.
Not a single one of her western books had prepared her for this harsh reality.
Indians had always seemed so far away to her, like mythic phantoms of the prairie.
She knew they could be dangerous, and should be avoided if possible, but her books had never mentioned such cruelty as torture.
"How awful." Maka whispered. It was all she knew to say.
What else could one say?
Tsubaki nodded, her face pale and pinched looking.
"He was so young... hurt and afraid. It took a very long time for him to come around to trusting us, and even now as an adult he doesn't easily trust people."
Maka sighed sadly. "He has scars that run much deep than skin."
"Yes hun he does, but the years he's lived her have slowly healed him, little by little."
A silent sob clawed up Maka's throat threatening to escape.
She wanted nothing more than to cry for that sad scared little boy wandering the prairie alone and bloodied.
But she wouldn't. Because that little boy was now a man, proud and stubborn. The last thing he would want was for her to cry for him.
And suddenly, she understood why he was so angry earlier.
She hadn't said anything, but that was the problem. She had looked at him, with judgment in her eyes.
Maka threw her arms around Tsubaki and buried her face into her shoulder.
"Thank you for telling me. I understand now."
Tsubaki patted her back gently. "I wanted you to know, not so you can treat him differently or pity him. I wanted you to know how strong a person he is, and what he has overcome in such a short time. Just remember on days like today when he's being irritable and a down right pain in the rear, that he's stil growing and healing."
Maka leaned out of Tsubaki's embrace and gave her a watery smile.
"Now why don't you head up stairs and get some rest hun? It's getting late and you've had a long day."
Maka wearily agreed and after one more quick hug, she trudged up to her room. Every bone in her body hurt as she made her way up the stairs and her feet felt impossibly heavy.
Her heart felt the heaviest though as she shut the door to her room. The hurt and anger she has witnessed on Soul's face kept replaying in her mind.
His deep crimson eyes, so hauntingly beautiful and sad.
There wasn't anything she could do about his past, there were no words of kindness that could erase so much pain.
And hugging him was absolutely out of the question!
Men didn't show their emotions the way women did.
Tomorrow was a new day though, and she was determined to make amends with him.
First thing in the morning she would set things right between them. Some how...
Out behind the barn, Soul leaned against a sturdy cottonwood.
From here he could look out across the land in all directions.
The night was cool, and the breezes whistled in the grass in great heaving signs.
From here he could just make out the sound of the nearby creek laping against the bank and smell the sweet perfume of the choak cherry trees blooming along the waters edge.
Here, at night, the world would grow so quiet that a man could get lost in the loneliness of it.
This tree was where he often came to think or be alone, and tonight he wanted nothing more than to be alone.
Here he could relax a little, out of sight from the house. Most importantly, away from a certain pair of inquisitive forest colored eyes.
It didn't help that the kid had the damndest green eyes he had ever seen.
They almost made him look like a girl.
He hated those eyes right now though, they had held nothing but pity and unasked questions in them.
It was enough to make him sick to his stomach.
The wind rose up unexpectedly, causing the cottonwoods and willows down near the creek to groan and toss their branches wildly, like sleeping giants waking from slumber.
Soul felt as if the wind was mocking him tonight, laughing at his pain as it passed through the branches and out into the endless night.
He loved this land with all his heart, no matter how big and lonely it seemed sometimes. Tonight, the sound of the wind did not comfort him. It tore at the empty spaces within him.
As suddenly as it had come though, the wind left, leaving the night deathly quiet again.
A twig snapped directly behind him, shattering the silence like a gunshot.
Soul pivoted, his hand going instinctively to the colt he constantly wore on his hip. Every nerve ending in his body danced, and he could already taste the sharp copper tang of blood.
Black Star's silhouette threw his hands up and his body stilled.
"Fuck boss, don't shoot me!"
Soul eased off the handle, the muscles in his body relaxing.
"Damn it Black Star, don't you know not to sneak up on a person? How have you even made it this long in life without getting shot?"
"Nothing but pure luck, I reckon." Black Star cackled as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. He pulled out a small pouch, and brought a freshly rolled cigarette up to his mouth.
"Want one boss?"
"Naw I"ll pass. I thought you quit smoking though?"
Black Star shrugged his wide shoulders. "I did, I guess I've just been a wee bit stressed though."
"What do you have to be stressed about?"
Black Star took his time fumbling in the dark for his book of matches, completely side stepping his question.
Soul wondered what his usually boisterous friend could be keeping unusually quiet about.
It wasn't in his nature to pry though. If anyone understood and respected privacy, it was him.
Black Star finally produced the matches, striking one against the sole of his boot to light it.
A single flame, red and unsteady filled a small space in an endless sea of night with wavering light.
The way the match stood out in the pitch black gave Soul an uneasy feeling.
Why was he so unsettled tonight?
Had the kid really gotten to him that bad? Or was it old memories trying to claw their way back into his head?
The shadows danced eerily across Black Star's face before the match went out and they were plunged back into darkness. There was no moon tonight, and far away a coyote yipped a sad solitary song.
The lone ember from Black Stars's freshly lit cigarette did nothing to brighten his mood or their surroundings.
Black Star took a long drag of his cigarette and sighed.
"So what's eatin at you boss? You seem extra broody tonight."
Soul sighed, a long suffering sound.
"I just came out here to be alone."
He gave Black Star a pointed look. "Until you came barging up."
Black Star grinned, the light of his cigarette making his features look long and taunt.
"You don't have to admit it, but I know it's English who's got you all riled up."
Soul gave a mirthless laugh. It sounded hollow in the night air.
"How'd you guess?"
"I see things." Black Star gave a mighty shrug of his shoulders. "I know how you are around the kid. He rubs you the wrong way boss, like a cat and dog, fighting in a gunny sack."
Soul snorted and ran his fingers threw his still damp hair. He could feel the wet strands sticking up in all dirrections.
Where the hell had his hat gone?
He had probably left it at the water pump after storming off.
Soul slumped against the white bark of the tree, his anger still palpable under the surface.
"I just don't know how to handle that fancy pants kid. One minute I feel like I'm making head way, the next I feel like I'm stuck in three inches of mud."
Black Star blows a cloud of smoke into the moonless night air, his face upturned in thought.
"Have you tried talking to the kid?"
Soul scowled at his friend. "Of course, I feel that's all I ever do is talk."
"No, you bonehead. I don't mean talk at him, I mean sit your ass down and talk with him. Have you stopped talking long enough to hear what the kid has to say?"
Soul folded his arms across his chest and exhaled sharply.
He hated to admit it, but Black Star had hit the mark on its head.
He truly was bad at this whole talking thing.
He'd spent too much time around cows and cowboys, both often lacking in social graces.
He more than likely needed some guidance on conversations, but was too stubborn to say it out loud.
"I really like the kid, and the more I get to know him, the better it gets. Ya know, I ate lunch with the kid today and spent a good deal of it talking with him, he's actually pretty interesting."
Soul gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "Black Star, I know we're friends and all, but you can't tell your boss about long lunches and goofing off all day. It puts me in a tough spot."
Black Star rolled his eyes.
"You're missing the point here boss, you have to put in the time with English, otherwise he will always be a stranger."
Soul hung his head, exhaling a defeated grunt.
Black Star smiled.
"Besides boss, I think you'd like him a lot once you got to know him. He's pretty smart for a young buck."
Soul nodded begrudgingly.
The kid was ignorant in a lot of ways, but he couldn't deny how sharp he was either. He recognized that spark in the kids eyes, that thirst for learning.
"You know he rigged up that plow to make up for his scrawny body? You should have seen him boss, plowing up that field like his life depended on it. He's small, but he makes up for it in gumption. I reckon he's hurting something fierce though."
Soul thought back to his earlier encounter with the kid.
The kid had stood with his back ramrod straight, like someone had drove a pole up his spine, his English airs as upity as ever.
His small round face had looked pinched and a little more paler than usual though, and he had clearly been trying not to limp.
Soul had been so nettled and full of bitterness that he had overlooked the fact that the kid was in pain.
Anger had a way of doing that though, sometimes it made you blind to everything else.
Fancy pants had no right to judge him or worse yet, feel sorry for him. He hated when people looked at him and gawked at his oddities, but he hated when people looked away or refused to make eye contact the most.
Had the kid been repulsed? Had he pitied him?
Whatever had crossed the kids mind was no longer relevant. He would never know, he had bolted before the kid could speak.
Soul still felt irked at the kid, but more than anything he felt the sting of his own pride being trampled on.
It really wasn't the kid's fault. He had failed to keep his emotions in check, and now he felt like an ass.
Somewhere in the distance, an owl cried out in the still night, a high piercing sound, the call of a predator.
Black Star took one last puff of his smelly cigarette and snuffed it out, the night creeping in a little closer as the flame was extinguished.
"Well boss, I'm heading off to the bunkhouse. I've got a date with a deck of cards tonight."
Soul huffed a loud exaggerated sound.
"You know I don't like you guys gambling, especially in front of Tad. He's mighty impressionable at his age, and he's already growing up wild enough."
Black Star paused, and put his hand over his heart.
"Boss you wound me. You know we just play for fun. There's no place for gambling in our bunkhouse."
Soul pushed off of the cottonwood tree and suppressed the urge to scoff.
"Lying isn't your strong suit Amigo."
"I know!" Black Star whined. "That's why I'm so bad at playing cards, I can't bluff to save my life."
Soul laughed and gave his friend a good natured slap on the back before departing.
The night wasn't getting any younger so Soul quickened his strides toward the house. He was starving and a little pissed still, but talking to Black Star had helped.
A single light burned in the highest window of the house, warm and inviting. The kid was still awake.
He didn't know why, but he felt drawn to that small light that seemed to chased away the ever encroaching darkness.
He didn't know what he was going to say yet, but he needed to speak with the kid, even if it meant ignoring his own foolish pride.